September 28, 2010

It's not the highest mountain in the world, or the most beautiful, or most challenging, or...A lot of people wouldn't have a lot to say about the climb of Mount Ararat. But, all mountains – all challenges in life – are relative to the skills we bring to the table, the goals we are looking to achieve, and our personal perspectives and prerogatives.

And, for Art Adams, reaching the summit of Ararat was not a given, was not easy, and was as well earned as any...Seeing him standing on top made me proud.

It wasn't an easy day. Çelit and I awoke to a big lenticular cap on the summit and raging wind and snow at ur high camp. We pushed back our departure by an hour, and finally saddled up to begin the climb at 1:00 AM. While reasonable enough, the wind and snow never relented as we climbed. Scrambling through jumbled rock with intermittent 30-40 mph blasts of wind took it's toll on Art. However, he kept his spirits up and game face on, and Çelit assured me the summit wasn't too far away.

We continued on, and by 8:00 AM, we were moving up the summit snow slopes. And, finally, the weather gave us a break; the lenticular blew off as sun bathed us in light and warmth. Art, proud as ever, stood on the storied summit of Mount Ararat, gazing off into Iran and relishing the accomplishment.

Çelit and I simply looked at him, proud of his accomplishment, and happy to share it with him.

Ararat may not be the highest, the most beautiful, the hardest, or any other myriad of hyperbolic expressions. But, it's a great mountain...and climbing it with great people puts it high in the rankings for me. And, seeing Art standing proudly on the summit made it as impressive as any peak I've seen.

July 15, 2010

My wife and I often talk about how fortunate we feel to have careers that are built upon our passions. As the cliche goes, do what you love and you'll never work another day in your life.

Certainly, Wende and I are fortunate. We were able to make our passions our vocations, and create the lives we wanted to lead. I also know that is not possible for everyone. But, having passion is not only possible in everyone's life, but, I would argue, it is essential. Our passion is the essential fuel which drives us forward in our lives, and helps ensure that we don't, as Henry David Thoreau once said, come to the time of our deaths and find that we never fully lived.

So, for today's Thursday Thought, some of my favorite quotes about finding that passion, that burning flame, inside yourself, whether it be your vocation, your hobby, your family, or whatever. Find it, and let it drive your life forward.

A man without a purpose is like a ship without a rudder.- Thomas Carlyle

Enthusiasm is one of the most powerful engines of success. When you do a thing, do it with all your might. Put your whole soul into it. Stamp it with your own personality. Be active, be energetic and faithful, and you will accomplish your object. Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm.- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Without work, all life goes rotten. But when work is soulless, life stifles and dies.- Albert Camus

Everybody has their own private Mount Everest they were put on this earth to climb. You may never reach the summit; for that you will be forgiven. But if you don’t make at least one serious attempt to get above the snow-line, years later you will find yourself lying on your deathbed, and all you will feel is emptiness.- Huch Macleod

Every man is proud of what he does well; and no man is proud of what he does not do well. With the former, his heart is in his work; and he will do twice as much of it with less fatigue. The latter performs a little imperfectly, looks at it in disgust, turns from it, and imagines himself exceedingly tired. The little he has done, comes to nothing, for want of finishing.- Abraham Lincoln

Those who do not create the future they want must endure the future they get.

- Draper L. Kaufman, Jr.

The biggest mistake people make in life is not trying to make a living at doing what they most enjoy.- Malcolm S. Forbes

Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his way. I learned a deep respect for one of Goethe's couplets:

Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!

June 15, 2010

Back in February, I wrote a Thursday Thought about ego...and the need to not have one in life. In it I shared some thoughts from one of my climbing heroes (and friends), Tom Hornbein.

As many of you know, I spent this weekend with an incredible group of athletes at the Outside in Aspen event in Aspen, Colorado. Aside from the depth and diversity of accomplishments in the group, what I found most impressive was the level of humility and the marked absence of ego amongst the crew.

On Sunday, we all shared a panel discussion: kayaker Jesse Coombs, cyclist Tyler Hamilton, climber Melissa Arnot, skier Chris Davenport, and myself. (Also present, but not on the panel, was kayaker Chris Korbulic.) Not once did anyone proclaim "I'm the best" or show any degree of arrogance about their successes, and failures, in life. Rather, the common theme was that each person followed their passion in life, and that, combined with a lot of hard work and tenacity, led to a high level of success...not to mention a lot of fun along the way.

Because of that humility, I really enjoyed sharing the panel discussion, and the weekend, with this group, and I think the audience and visitors to Outside in Aspen did, too.

Especially impressive during the panel was Jesse Coombs comments on how to approach all we do in life. He kept stressing the need to "do the right things for the right reasons." Advice we all could and should apply to our lives, personal and professional.

And, Jesse is no run-of-the-mill kayaker; he's one of the most accomplished in the world, with a list of first-descents that to this hydro-challenged person reads like my worst nightmare. But, you won't get that out of him easily; he'll downplay his accomplishments while simultaneously noting yours and complimenting you. Solid characteristics from a solid guy.

So, here's a little video that shows some of the huge accomplishments of Jesse Coombs and his team of expedition kayakers. Amazing stuff...enjoy Hotel Charley V:

May 28, 2010

I was honored beyond words that the students of The Bosque School in Albuquerque, New Mexico, not only remembered by presentation to them back in February, 2006, but also enjoyed it enough to ask me to speak at their commencement ceremony last night.

It was not only an honor, but also a lot of fun, and exciting to see these energetic, young people moving from one phase of life to the next, commencing this new and intriguing chapter of life. And, it was great to hear after the ceremony that they enjoyed my brief, 20 minute speech about the wisdom I've gleaned from the mountains over the years.

Many of them shared their dream summits with me afterward: playing professional soccer, returning as an MD to work on the nearby Navajo Reservation, and even some who hoped to one day be professional climbers. (I strongly advised them against that!)

The four key points of last night's commencement speech are still in my head, resonating with me as I hope they are with the newly-graduated Bosque Class of 2010:

Dream...and dream big

Get a helmet...it's a bumpy road ahead

Don't take life too seriously...it's not

And, keep your humanity...a box of pears and a hug means a lot more than summits and certificates

April 30, 2010

I wish I had spent more time with him, hearing his stories and gathering in some of his contagious zest for life.

I wish I had visited more often, and stayed a bit longer.

I wish.

And, I guess those are the thoughts we always are faced with when someone near, dear, and special passes onto the next adventure.

Roe "Duke" Watson was one of a rare breed. A great adventurer, businessman, and just a wonderful person, I grew up hearing lore and legend of "your great Uncle Duke". And, when I grew older and got to know him more, I learned there was no lore or legend, only the truths of a life lived well, lived fully, lived with integrity.

Uncle Duke's accomplishments are far too numerous to go through here, and Lowell Skoog already did a magnificent job of capturing Duke's life and accomplishments in his 2006 article for the Northwest Mountain Journal entitled Duke Watson: A Mountaineer for All Seasons. But, I would be remiss if I didn't make mention of at least a few of his notable accomplishments:

Western Military Academy & University of Michigan graduate, 1937

March, 1941: drafted into the Army, a soon requests transfer into the new 87th Mountain Regiment, later to become the famed Tenth Mountain Division

February 24, 1945: Duke leads his battalion up Mount della Torraccia in the Apennine Mountains. He barely survives a near-direct hit by a 170mm German howitzer shell, which tore open his abdomen. Duke crawls back downhill and, eventually, to safety, under his own power.

Over a 20 year period, Duke canoed over 20,000 miles throughout Canada, retracing old routes and linking passage across the north of the continent

Despite all his accomplishments, Duke was always humble. His first ascents in Washington happened almost accidentally, and were never bragged about. Asked what he did in World War II, and his reply would usually be something like: "Oh, I fought a little in the mountains. Nothing much." Crystal Mountain? "It was a neat idea. We all loved to ski." Canoeing across the forbidding northern waters? "Well, it is just something I love to do."

Over the years, Duke served as inspiration and role model for me, an icon of someone who lived life fully, every day, rain or shine, and generally did so with a grand smile. Even in his 90's, he was still climbing Mount Si near Seattle, which ascends over 4,000 feet in about 4 miles. "Oh, it's just a little hike," Duke told me...at age 92.

Duke will be sorely missed. He is survived by his wife Marillyn, his sons Alan, Bart, and Rolfe, and his grandsons Sam and Luke, and of course an extended family and many close friends.

But, like so many great souls, Duke will go on inspiring through his life, his actions, his way of being. Skoog ended his article on Uncle Duke very well:

Duke planned the final leg of his trans-Canada canoe crossing to be the segment
reaching the Pacific Ocean. Fittingly, his wife, Marillyn, accompanied him on this trip. When they finally reached tidewater, Duke, perhaps reluctant to admit that the journey was finished, kept paddling straight out into the Bering Sea. To Marillyn, it seemed he was headed for Japan. Exasperated, she asked, “Duke, will you ever stop?” He lifted his paddle and paused, content for a moment to call a halt. But they both knew he would not keep still for long. In retrospect, they agreed that was a metaphor for Duke Watson’s long life of outdoor adventure.

So, I find myself today a bit melancholy. But, I'll try to do as Duke would have done. I'll go into the mountains. I'll climb high into the clean, fresh air. I'll commune a bit with the hills, and perhaps with Uncle Duke. I'll drape a khata in a high, solitary, beautiful place, blowing Duke's spirit to the winds. I know he'll not be far away.

April 22, 2010

I'm often asked if having children - I now have two - has changed my climbing in any way. And, I think it is often assumed that I either (a) no longer climb or (b) have deeply limited my climbing.

The answer is no on both accounts. For starters, I have always been a conservative climber, most likely as a result of my guiding background. I've never considered dying in the mountains as an option, even though I know logically that it is indeed a possibility. Nonetheless, I always approach my climbs and expeditions with a conservative attitude and the essential perspective that the mountain will be here another day...the important thing is that I will be here to climb it another day.

While I have no desire or intention of ever dying in the mountains (Jim Whittaker once famously wrote: If you're ever killed mountain climbing, then all that you've worked for is gone.), I do know it is always a lurking possibility. Risk is as ever-present in the hills as rain, wind, and snow. But, risk is ever-present in our lives as a whole. I truly believe I have an equal chance of losing my life while driving on Interstate 25 in Denver as I do while climbing the high peaks. And, while I again do not want my life to end in the mountains, I guess I'd prefer that to becoming a good ornament on a semi while driving to the mall.

At any rate, what I'm getting at is that having children has not made me take more or less risk in my life, but rather to be sure I continue living my life, and living it fully. My kids have made me more certain than ever that I must pursue that in life which pushes me, enthralls me, and gives me the inspiration and passion to do more, to live more, to experience more. As William Arthur Ward wrote in To Risk:

To laugh is to risk appearing a fool,To weep is to risk appearing sentimental.To reach out to another is to risk involvement,To expose feelings is to risk exposing your true self.To place your ideas and dreams before a crowd is to risk their loss.To love is to risk not being loved in return,To live is to risk dying,To hope is to risk despair,To try is to risk failure.But risks must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, is nothing.He may avoid suffering and sorrow,But he cannot learn, feel, change, grow or live.Chained by his servitude he is a slave who has forfeited all freedom.Only a person who risks is free.The pessimist complains about the wind;The optimist expects it to change;And the realist adjusts the sails.

If I pass on anything to my children, I want to pass on to them the knowledge that life is to be lived, embraced, and loved. That they should pursue their passions, and live with compassion. That they should be intriguing and intrigued. That they should maintain a sense of adventure and wonder in all that they do. And, that risk is inherent in living a full and true life.

So, today's Thursday Thought touches on what I want to show and pass on to my children. I hope I will have many more years to do so...The Mountaineer's Will by Paul S. Williams:

Having disposed of my material possessions, I now turn to those items I hold in great esteem but which are without material value in this life. To all of my children I leave the most important things of my life: The sparkle of sunlight on the snow in the cool sunlight of the early morning after a new snowfall, the blue of ice in a serac poised against the blue sky, the clean firm grip of good rock, the music of a tiny stream in an alpine meadow, the smell of heather in bloom, the graceful tilted head of an avalanche lily, the clink of pitons and carabiners, singing of a primus in darkness at high camp, the flicker of flashlights in the pre-dawn climb, and the indescribable beauty of an Alpine dawn from high on a mountain. The feel of comradeship as the team moves swiftly up the face, the moments when fingers of fear clench at your insides on exposure, and perhaps moments of terror, the knowledge that life and death are sure, swift, and true.

But above all, I leave to you my beloved children, those few short moments of attainment and peace on the summit, secure in the knowledge that you have conquered not the mountain so much as yourself. Those few moments in the sunlight you share with God, who has written his signature all about you as you sit in the magnificent cathedral in the sky created by God, for God, and which we mortals share but a brief time. Where you must accept the ultimate truth that we have but one end to our short life, before you descend again the burdens of the world, to shoulder the cross of responsibility to the family.

I know not whether or not you, my children, will follow in my steps to the Alpine world, and yet, knowing all too vividly the mountain dangers, I also fear that you will. But whether you go to the high places or view them from afar off as the sunset paints a crimson glory across and as the light slips from the mountain meadow, remember the restless spirit of your father amid the moss and heather seeking ever his eternal rest with God.

If you can keep your head when all about youAre losing theirs and blaming it on you;If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,But make allowance for their doubting too;If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;If you can meet with triumph and disasterAnd treat those two imposters just the same;If you can bear to hear the truth you've spokenTwisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winningsAnd risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,And lose, and start again at your beginningsAnd never breath a word about your loss;If you can force your heart and nerve and sinewTo serve your turn long after they are gone,And so hold on when there is nothing in youExcept the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;If all men count with you, but none too much;If you can fill the unforgiving minuteWith sixty seconds' worth of distance run -Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

April 16, 2010

It was cold, brutally cold. The kind of cold that one only seems to find in the depth of February in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. And it was only exacerbated by the fact that we were ice climbing, which means standing in the cold for hours on end with your hands above your head.

My twelve year old body was trying hard to generate some heat at the belay station atop pitch 1 of Standard Route, and my father helped with cups of hot chocolate from our little plastic Thermos. I was cold, I was tired, I hated it...but really I loved it. Every frozen, painful, fearful moment of it.

I loved it because our guide and friend, Nick Yardley, allowed me to. He allowed me to because he made it fun. And, he made it fun not by slinging jokes or doing cartwheels on the ice, but rather by allowing me to be a climber, not a client; by not micro-managing my every move, but to figure it out based on what I already new. Nick made the suffering fun by giving me autonomy, by allowing me to make my own decisions on the ice (assuming I wasn't endangering myself or others), and thereby allowing me to take deep pride in the climb and in the process and eventual outcome.

As a guide today, I try to approach every outing with clients with the same perspective as Nick did years back: to give my clients autonomy (within reason and the bounds of safety), to allow them to figure out the problem at hand, to apply their skills and knowledge creatively and take pride in the process and the outcome. I try to focus on what Nick said to me in 1986:

I guess I will have done my job when you don't hire me anymore...when you no longer need me...when you've got the skills and confidence to climb by yourself. If I tell you what and how and when and why to do everything, you'll never be able to do any of it without me.

Autonomy. A simple concept, tough to embrace and implement. I know this more than ever as my wife and I try to effectively rear our 2 year old daughter, Lila, helping her learn the skills necessary to live a confident, creative, caring, and compassionate life.

Author and speaker Dan Pink has some great thoughts on motivation and autonomy. He speaks a great deal about how the old paradigm of fostering productivity by applying financial incentives simply does not work as well as we think it does. As he says: "There is a mismatch between what science knows and what business does..."

Rather, he argues, we foster productivity and creativity by encouraging autonomy, mastery, and purpose. What do these fluffy words mean? He describes them as "the building blocks of an entirely new operating system for our businesses" and, I would argue, our lives:

autonomy - the urge to direct our own lives

mastery - the desire to get better and better at something that matters

purpose - the yearning to do what we do in the service of something larger than ourselves

In other words, people need to feel connected to, involved in, their work in order to be successful and productive at it. They need to feel like they are a true part of it, rather than simply another cog in a big piece of machinery. And, they need to feel validated in being creative, in finding solutions to problems both current and future.

So, for today's Thursday Thought, rather than transcribe Pink's thoughts into this blog, I want to share some of his thoughts on video. I think, while very different, they echo those thoughts of Nick Yardley many years ago. They echo my approach to guiding and teaching. They echo what my wife and I are trying to foster in our children. And, most importantly, they speak to a new way to look at business, at life, at our world.

January 27, 2010

Note and apology: This Thursday Thought was supposed to come out last Thursday, January 21, 2010, but in my sick and sleep-deprived state, I hit "draft" instead of "publish", and only noticed the error now. Sorry!

From what I know, CC's climbing legacy dates back to 1914-1919, when Albert Ellingwood was a professor there and took time to pioneer many classic routes in Colorado's high country, including the famous Ellingwood Ridge on La Plata Peak and Ellingwood Ledges on Crestone Needle. While perhaps the first "named" climber at CC, Ellingwood was certainly not the last. Since his tenure, the ranks of climbing have been filled with Colorado College alums, including:

Harvey Carter, a remarkable climber with over 5,000 first ascents...and counting

Ed Webster, who pioneered new climbs from Colorado's Black Canyon to the Kangshung Face of Everest

Will Gadd, incredible climber and adventurer who just did the Endless Ascent at the Ouray Ice Festival, climbing "Pic o' the Vic" - a 120 foot WI4 - 194 times in 24 hours to raise money for the dZi Foundation...amazing!

Renan Ozturk, a member of the younger cadre of impressive CC climber-alums

A mountaineer may be satisfied to nurse his athletic infancy upon home rocks, and he may be happy to pass the later years of his experience among the more elusive impressions and more subtle romance of our old and quiet hills. But in the storm years of his strength he should test his powers, learn his craft and earn his triumphs in conflict with the abrupt youth and warlike habit of great glacial ranges.

January 07, 2010

[This Thursday Thought is both written and video...the reason being the video version didn't come out the way I had hoped, so I decided to write it as well. Hope you enjoy!]

As you all know, I've been absent for a bit. Well, more than a bit - a few weeks, actually. I was in Ecuador climbing Cotopaxi and shooting images for First Ascent, and then returned for the holidays which were busy to say the least.

A couple of days ago, I got out for a few hours alone to climb some local ice. Nothing huge, nothing epic, but it was a great break from the chaos of the holidays. Just me and my tools and some good, plastic ice...always a good order for a head clearing and a return to the essentials in life.

And, as always, as I climbed, immersed in the simplicity of placing tools, placing feet, and not falling, the words and thoughts of A. Alvarez milled through my brain.

So, today's Thursday Thought is from Alvarez on the recurring topic of why we climb, and of why we seek risk in our lives:

"Life loses interest," wrote Freud, "when the highest stake in the game, life itself, may not be risked." Those who cultivate risk for its own sake, however, are probably emphasizing only their own inner torpor, just as the people who talk most fervently about the beautiful emotions induced by drugs are those who have most difficulty in feeling anything at all. The pleasure in risk is in the control needed to ride it with assurance so that what appears dangerous to the outsider is, to the participant, simply a matter of intelligence, skill, intuition, coordination - in a word, experience. Climbing, in particular, is a paradoxically intellectual pastime, but with this difference: you have to think with your body. Each pitch becomes a series of specific local problems: which holds to use, and in which combinations, in order to get up safely and with the least expense of energy. Every move has to be worked out by a kind of physical strategy, in terms of effort, balance, and consequences. It is like playing chess with your body.

And, that, for me, is the final satisfaction...On a climb...I am thinking with my body rather than my weary, addled head, and if I make a mistake, the consequences are immediate, obvious, embarrassing, and possibly painful. For a brief period and on a small scale, I have to be directly responsible for my actions, without evasions, without excuses. In that beautiful, silent, useless world of mountains, you can achieve at least a certain clarity, even seriousness of a wayward kind. It seems to me worth a little risk.